


Oh Baby, Maybe

by alexenglish



Series: Tumblr Fic [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Asexual Kira, F/M, Gen, Implied Scott McCall/Stiles Stilinski, McCall Family Feels, Polyamory, Queerplatonic Relationships, Trans Character, Trans Kira, Trans Scott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 09:20:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5200496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexenglish/pseuds/alexenglish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott talks to his mom about carrying a baby for Kira and him to raise together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh Baby, Maybe

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Trans Wolf Network’s prompt exchange for Loren: Scott discusses, with his mom, his hopes and anxieties about his desire to carry a child for his partner and himself. 
> 
> transmasculine quoiromantic Scott, transfeminine aroace Kira, brief discussion of dysphoria and depression.

The house smells like enchiladas when Melissa lets herself in. It’s stifling inside, because Scott didn’t bother opening any windows while cooking. Knowing him, the oven isn’t clean and something on the bottom is smoking, but he’s ignoring it, because it’s better than admitting that he didn’t notice it was dirty.

She slides the back door open on the way to the kitchen, and one of the dining room windows. A breeze moves through the room, taking some of the heat and smoke away. The smell of warm tortillas, cheese, and slow cooked chicken stays heavy in the air. When she gets into the kitchen, he’s cooking, shirtless. She knows it’s just because he  _can_.

“Okay, they’re not going to be great,” he says when he notices her, pulling her in for a hug. “I didn’t get the chicken in for long enough, but they should be alright. Not as good as yours, though.”

“None of your food is as good as mine,” she reminds him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “It just takes practice.”

He sticks his tongue out at her and goes to move away, but she stops him, making him face her. The twin scars cupping the underside of his pecs are still pink, but no longer red and irritated like they were. She was afraid that they were going to get infected last week, because they were so chapped, but she texted him every day to remind him to take care of them.

“They look better,” she says, gesturing at his chest. She doesn’t want to touch them, in case she irritates them.

“Yeah, Kira keeps bugging me about taking care of them too,” he says, smiling at her cheekily.

“Good, you need to be careful,” she says, with a sniff. It’s weird to see Scott shirtless, now. The testosterone is working well. It’s been nearly a year, and she can tell the difference. Not that she saw much of his body shape before he started transitioning. Back then it was always large overshirts and Stiles’ stolen plaids, nothing that gave any hint to how he looked underneath it all.

After he started testosterone, he would wander around the house in his binder and jeans when he could get away with it, layered sports bras that flattened his chest while his body reshaped itself. More quickly than she thought it would, but probably too slow for his liking. Now, there are only scars to signify that his body used to be different.

She always thought it was normal adolescent self-consciousness, but now she knows better. She doesn’t quite understand it, because she’s never felt in opposition with her body. It’s a body, it’s hers, it fits. All she knows is that he’s happier now, that he smiles more. There’s no longer a dark cloud of resignation over his head, and she’ll do anything to make sure it doesn’t come back.

“So, you’re cooking,” she says, conversationally. Might as well get right to it.

“I am,” Scott says, eyes cutting to her face and then down to the counter.

“What is it?” Whenever Scott invites her to dinner, it means he wants to talk about something, as if food will soften the blow. She appreciates the effort, but it’s a dead giveaway every time.

The first time he cooked for her outside of his traditional Mother’s Day breakfast was when he was 15 and coming out. He was so nervous he botched the waffles, but she’ll never forget how she woke up to a whole spread of all her favorite breakfast food and Scott sitting at the dining room table, looking like he wanted to cry and run away all at the same time.

He hid behind his then-long hair, and it was the first time she had ever felt like there was a wall between them. It took a lot of coaxing, but eventually he told her everything.

She had never paid attention to what the word ‘transgender’ meant; she never even considered it, but her son sat in front of her and told her everything. His voice shook, eyes wet, hands clenched tight. It took her almost the whole conversation to realize that he was  _scared_ , and that made her cry harder than his confession did.

The idea that he was so miserable, so desperate to be who he really was tore her apart. The fact that he didn’t know whether or not she was going to  _reject_ him was what hurt the most. She always thought that she projected ‘completely supportive and loving mom’. Of course, he had fears that she couldn’t even begin to understand, so all she could do was draw him in for a tight hug and hold him close as they both cried.

Things were better now. They’ve had years of therapy and doctors’ recommendations, a year of hormones, a couple of weeks post-top surgery. Everything was slotting into place. Now he is making food, and she’s a little worried.

“We should eat,” he says, with a grin that’s all mischievous dimples. He’s gotten better at pandering to her, she thinks, as he slides out her chair and puts a plate in front of her that’s piled high with enchiladas and rice.

“You’re such a kiss ass,” she says.

“Damn right,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and sitting down across from her. He doesn’t hesitate, just starts shovelling food in his mouth at high speeds. She follows at a slower pace, watching him suspiciously.

“Are you going to keep staring at me like that?” he asks. He’s still smiling. It can’t be something completely devastating, but there have been too many tear-filled confessions and breakdowns when there’s a cooked meal involved that she can’t tread too carefully.

“Probably,” she admits.

“Okay, then we’ll talk,” he says, sliding his plate away. He wipes his mouth, and looks at her. “I want to have a baby.”

The rice Melissa’s eating gets caught in her throat, making her sputter.

“What?” she demands, eyebrows jumping high. He wants a baby, he wants to be a _dad_. She’s getting choked up just thinking about it; she takes a breath, tries to slow her thoughts.“You want to have a  _baby_?”

“Yeah,” he says, with more forceful smile that is pure sunshine, like this isn’t absolutely the most mind-blowing news she’s received since he came out.

“You want a baby,” she repeats. “Like adoption, or a surrogate? Those are expensive, Scott, and with  _who_? All your friends are, well,  _friends_. Except Kira.”

Melissa doesn’t fully understand the thing with Kira. All she knows is that they live together and love each other, just ‘not like that, Mom’. It’s like, a friendship with extra bonuses. Friendship with intent. Scott calls it a ‘queerplatonic relationship’. Again, something she never ever considered before her son discovered it, but if it works for them, it works for her.

 _Babies_ , on the other hand. Scott wants to be a  _dad_.

“That’s who,” Scott says, fidgeting. “I mean, we’re perfectly adult, and we want kids. Like, not immediately, but soon. Someday. Someday, soon.”

“Don’t be nervous,” she says, an automatic reaction to the way that he’s fidgeting. His shoulders round out, shooting her a tiny smile. “It’s just a little weird to think about. So, she – Did she, uh, take the steps she needs to have a baby?”

“Yeah,” Scott says, nodding sharply. “She has sperm saved from before she transitioned, and the doctor said that it’s all good to go when we want it.”

“So, how – or who, rather,” Melissa winces. Sometimes having conversations about bodies, especially transitioned and transitioning bodies, is hard. She doesn’t know all the jargon, but she doesn’t want to offend Scott, or anyone else.

“Me.”

“Really?” she asks, unable to help herself. “I mean, not a bad thing! You just got top surgery. I’m worried about dysphoria here, Scott. Pregnancy is a huge reminder about your body.”

She remembers feeling like such a  _woman_  when she was pregnant. It was uncomfortable carrying a baby, but it’s the pinnacle of what society considers to be feminine. Wide hips, large chest, shiny hair, long nails. Sure, her skin was bad and she spent the first three months barfing, but people saw her differently when she was pregnant.

“I know,” Scott says, biting his bottom lip. “I mean, I’m not looking forward to  _that_  part. I have to be off T completely, and I’m really terrified about how people are going to act towards me. I don’t know how bad my dysphoria is going to get…”

Scott grimaces, and Melissa wonders if his list of pros is longer than his list of cons, or he doesn’t care either way.

“But,” she prompts.

“But I want it,” Scott says, firmly. “Kira wants kids, I want kids. We’re really settled with the house and our relationship. I mean, we’re going to give it time with my chest, but we’ll talk to a doctor more and my therapist.”

“That’s awesome Scott,” Melissa says, smiling. It’s hesitant, she knows he can see that, but her head is spinning with possibilities. Are people going to  _say_  anything to him when he starts showing? Are they going to misgender him for it? With all the hard work he put into transitioning, it would be terrible if they did; she can’t imagine how  _he_ would feel. What if his dysphoria gets bad, again?

“Do you – Are you worried about Kira and I?” Scott asks, eyes on his plate.

“What do you mean?” she asks, trying to concentrate and not lose herself in a panicky thoughts about what may or may not happen.

“I mean, our less than traditional relationship.”

“You know I don’t mind that, right?” Melissa says, making a face. She knows this is a sensitive subject for Scott. Kira and Scott have been living together for almost a year, and he still gets all wide-eyed when they talk about it. Like she’s going to suddenly disapprove and demand he move out. Apparently, the fact that he’s an adult that can make his own decisions seems to escape him when it comes to getting her approval.

She probably shouldn’t be as warmed by the knowledge as she is, but it makes her proud to be his mom; proud that he thinks of her.

“I think you’re the only one,” Scott says, making a face. “Mrs. Yukimura was talking about how our kid would be confused because we’re not  _really_  together, and ‘what if you bring someone home, I know how you look at Stiles, that isn’t something every child sees’.”

“The homosexuality aspect of it, or the fact that no one is in a committed relationship?” Melissa asks, laughing. Her and Noshiko have talked about their children’s relationship. While Noshiko is supportive, she fundamentally doesn’t understand that Scott and Kira aren’t  _just_ friends. She definitely doesn’t understand the nuances of it. Melissa isn’t sure  _she_ knows what it means, but she just has to listen to Scott. He has endless patience with her as she tries to understand.

“We’re all committed,” Scott says, indignant. “We’re committed to each other, that’s the  _point_. We’re both willing to commit our lives to raising a kid together, and we would be good at it.”

“You would be good at it,” Melissa says, warmly. Scott beams at her. He’s always been nurturing. It’s what led him to volunteering at Deaton’s when he was 14, what led him to pursuing medicine. Scott  _cares_ , Kira cares; that will be enough to raise a child.

Scott breathes out a sigh of relief, slumping forward. He shoots her a smile and starts eating again. Less nervously this time.

“It’s not your relationship with Kira that worries me,” she says, pushing her food around as she contemplates her wording. “Or, whatever it is that you and Stiles have.”

“Mom,” Scott whines, shooting her a look. She smiles at him innocently. Stiles is a subject they don’t breech often. While Kira is absolutely certain she doesn’t have any romantic feelings towards anyone, Scott’s explained that his feelings are far more blurry than that. It’s hard for him to tell who he loves platonically or romantically. She’s pretty sure Scott and Stiles are hooking up, but she doesn’t actually want to know if she’s right or not. They’re open about a lot of things, but she draws the line at knowing about everyone’s sex lives.

“Seriously, though, Scott. I am worried about what might happen when you are pregnant.”

“I’ll probably throw up a lot.”

“Some people get really depressed,” she says. “You went through a lot before you transitioned, and –” she stops, and looks at the table top. She still remembers holding Scott one night when he was 17. He couldn’t stop crying, and couldn’t articulate  _why_. It took two hours to calm him down, for him to tell her that the dysphoria was so bad that some days he didn’t want to wake up at all.

She knows for a fact that the depression has gotten better since he transitioned. The idea of him going through anything like that again breaks her heart, especially since having a kid seems to be something that he’s dead set on.

“Yeah, I know,” Scott says, softly, leaning forward to squeeze her hand in reassurance. “I don’t want to go through that again, but I think I can identify it better, now, and I’ll know. I think it’ll be worth it.”

“If you think so, then I do too,” Melissa says, genuinely. She can imagine how perfect a little one would fit in her arms. Holding a grandbaby, getting to spoil them. With Scott in his own place, she moved into a smaller house, has more money saved. She could spoil a grandchild in ways that she never  _dreamed of_  when she first had Scott. The idea of seeing Scott smile at his own kid, watching Kira play with them, hold them, warms her to her core.

Melissa’s daydreaming about bedtime stories and pumpkin patches, Easter egg hunts and teaching them Spanish alongside English, when Scott finishes up his plate.

“Are you going to eat?” he asks her, gently, concern lining his face. She nods quickly, taking a bite to reassure him. The enchiladas are delicious. Not as good as hers, but his food never is.

“I’m just thinking about having a baby around,” she says, wondering if she sounds as dreamy as she feels. There’s a tight, happy feeling in her chest. Her eyes might be watering. Scott pulls her into a tight hug, and they breathe together.

“I’m really excited,” he whispers, squeezing her tightly.

“Me too,” she says. “You’re going to be a great dad.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr!](http://queerlyalex.tumblr.com/post/132085037642/written-for-trans-wolf-networks-prompt-exchange)


End file.
